Lay Your Weary Head To Rest (Don't You Cry No More)
by thunderwhenitrains
Summary: Prompted by, and thus dedicated to Sophia Michelle, who wanted badboy!blaine and Kurt at McKinley. 'His eyes were-were they gold or green? His outfit looked like it was transported right from the '50s, complete with ripped jeans and leather jacket. Blaine is new, and Kurt is in hell. All Kurt knows is that Blaine Anderson is definitely something different.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey, guys. It's me again. This is my promised story for Sophia Michelle. Please read and review, and tell me what I can do to improve, as always. Please. This won't be updated super fast, because I have Come Let Me Love You and Cellophane to focus on, as well as MrsMusicAddict's as of yet non-existent story. But I will **_**not **_**abandon any of my stories, so do not fear. **

**Warning: Homophobia and some physical abuse**

**Disclaimer: I only own is the writing part of the plot, because it's Sophia Michelle's prompt. Anything and everything else you recognize is someone else's. **

**Chapter 1**

"Hey, fairy, whose cock did you suck this weekend? Oh, wait, no one would want you to", Nameless Jock #1 called out as I made my way down the hall. I rolled my eyes as the lame comment was immediately followed by raucous laughter. None of them had an IQ above 10, it seemed.

"Really, boys?" I countered, even though my conscience was kicking me in the back of my mind with its heavy Doc Martens boot heel, repeatedly reminding me that this was a _bad idea, Kurt, are you trying to get yourself hurt? _"Did you come up with those insults on your own? Or did you have to pay someone to do the thinking for you again?"

I knew that my outwardly cool demeanour would only anger them even more, and my conscience was tearing its (immaculately styled) hair out in pure frustration. I didn't know what the hell I was doing. Inviting trouble to my doorstep and asking it to eat me alive seemed like an accurate enough answer, though.

"Don't push me, fag" I didn't even flinch. I had heard that one too many times to count.

"What are you going to do?" I taunted, "_shove _me? Or throw me into the dumpster? Because you've really been doing that for a long time. Oh, wait, are you going to _punch _me?" I watched the jocks, who were very blatantly becoming more and more irritated. "But you really wouldn't do that- not if you were worried about repetition", I said, my stoic expression never once shifting.

I didn't let the pain show on my face as I was slammed back into the lockers where two of them hoisted me up and pinned me, a combination lock digging painfully into my back, where numerous other bruises decorated my skin.

"We don't want you to spread your fairy dust and make us all gay", Nameless Jock #5 informed me ever so helpfully.

"It's not contagious, dimwit. And if it were, the two of you", I said scornfully to the huge barriers that prevented any motion, "would be pounding into each other's asses right now, what with how much you're touching me."

All of the idiots made identical noises of disgust and I fell roughly to the floor as the jocks holding me in place removed their hands.

"We're going to teach you a lesson, Hummel. Teach you that you belong in the trash, and we're on top." One of them kicked me. Hard.

"Sorry, boys", I choked out though I knew it would only make things worse, "I'm an exclusive top. You'll have to bottom." Sexual comments usually made me incredibly uncomfortable, seeing as I was a _kiss-_virgin, excluding the Brittany fiasco. But talking about sex and acting all confident was a great defence mechanism, and I was able to make as many euphemisms as I wanted in front of people I didn't trust enough to tell them I hadn't even had a proper lip-lock.

"Well, that's too bad, kitten", an unfamiliar voice came from above me, making the dumbasses in letterman jackets murmur in confusion. I looked up as the voice continued, "I'm an exclusive top, too. Seems like one of us is going to have to give in, and it isn't gonna be me, sugar."

The leering face was so beautiful I was sure I stopped breathing for a moment. His eyes were-were they gold, or green? His hair was dark and unruly, but it inexplicably flattered him. His lips were full, his eyelashes ridiculously long, his skin tanned, and his outfit looked like it had been transported straight from the '50s, complete with the ripped jeans and leather jacket.

"Hey, who're you, man?" the gruff voice of Nameless Jock #1 demanded of the stunning stranger, who had apparently caught me staring, if his smirk was anything to go by. To be fair, he had been staring at me, too.

"The name's Blaine Anderson", he informed, and fuck, his name was beautiful too, "and I think you morons", he said, turning to them as he straightened up from the bent posture he had adopted to talk to me, "should go, before someone gets hurt."

Nameless Jock #4 snorted. "We aren't scared of you, shorty", and it was true, he was short, but that made him no less intimidating when he was angry. His eyes looked molten, and there was a tiny crease in his forehead, showing determination and no hesitancy.

Anderson walked over to #4 and punched him in the face, then stared coolly at the rest of them as #4 doubled over and muttered profanities.

"Leave", he ordered, and they ran away like a bunch of chickens. I would have laughed if the pain in my ribs hadn't been so severe.

The silence was palpable. I watched as Anderson's feet turned around, and made their way over to me. I gulped, staring steadfastly at the ground. He might have made my bullies leave, but that didn't mean he didn't just want to beat me up himself.

I didn't have to look up, though, it seemed, as Anderson bent down so his face was inches apart from mine. I really did stop breathing this time.

"What's your name, sugar?" he asked lowly, his breath fanning over my face and damn it, I was getting turned on.

"Kurt. Kurt Hummel", I told him, and I was proud of myself for keeping my voice steady.

"Are you hurt?" he inquired, looking down at the hand I had over my chest.

"No", I told him. "No, I'm fine." I rose up, ignoring the pain and breaking the spell of the moment.

"I don't believe you, sweetie", he said as I secured my satchel on my shoulder.

"You don't have to", I stated. "Thank you", I said, looking directly into his eyes for the first time and staring for a bit. "For, um, for what you did. But you didn't have to."

Anderson watched me carefully before he seemed to understand I didn't want to talk about it. He grinned and looked at me from under his lashes. "Well, I couldn't just stand by and let a pretty thing like you get hurt, now could I?" His question seemed rhetorical.

"Will you stop with those comments, please, Anderson?" I demanded, blushing.

"Kitten, you're the one who told those jocks you're a top, and I'm pretty sure that was only the least of it. Also, call me Blaine."

"I have class now, _Blaine. _Thank you for what you did. I can take care of myself, though."

"I know you can", he said simply. "And I have class too. How about you show me where Mr Westmore's class is, in return for my services?"

I was surprised that Ande-_Blaine _was taking an AP class, and immediately felt guilty that I had presumed he wasn't smart enough for that. That was the reason I agreed. _Not _because I wanted to spend more time with him. Not.

"Well, I have the same class. Walk with me?" I asked, grinning slightly.

"Of course", he said, grabbing my hand.

I somehow managed to recover from my shock and mental freak out in time to lead him to the class.

Blaine Anderson was something different, I had to give him that.

_I knew when I met you an adventure was going to happen._


	2. Chapter 2

**So, second chapter. I'm surprised. This came out earlier than Come Let Me Love You. I'm going to write that now, though. Please review? Please? Hope you like it.**

**Chapter 2**

"Are you-why are you walking _behind _me?" Kurt asked, looking bewildered as Blaine continued to walk behind him. He turned around and glared at him, making Blaine meet his eyes with some amusement.

Blaine held up both his hands and gave Kurt a thoroughly unconvincing innocent look.

"Babe, you lead and I'll follow", he said, adopting a dreamy look which only succeeded in making Kurt glare harder. Blaine chuckled, walking closer to him and wrapping an arm around his waist, startling Kurt.

"Gorgeous, I was just appreciating that absolutely _delectable _arse the way it deserves to be", he stated seductively.

Kurt squeaked, his eyes widening and his face heating up in a blush. He took a second to breathe and then threw himself out of Blaine's arms, his attempt at nonchalance completely failing.

"W-we have to get to class. Math. Come on", he said, hurrying forward. Blaine chuckled and followed at a much more lax pace, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on Kurt's bottom.

* * *

"-we're going to focus on-yes, Mr Hummel. Do you have an excuse as to why you're late?" Mr Westmore inquired with his default stony expression.

"Sorry, sir. I was just-just helping the new kid find your class", Kurt said, looking every bit an innocent angel. Which, Blaine supposed, he was. Mr Westmore scrutinized them through narrowed eyes. Kurt blinked up at him with large blue (strange, because Blaine was sure they'd been green in the hallway) eyes. Blaine grinned toothily and waved from behind him, receiving a strong elbow to the ribs from Cherub Hummel.

"Alright, then. Come in and take your seats, Mr Hummel and Mr.."

"Anderson. Blaine Anderson", Kurt spoke for him when he just kept grinning.

"Anderson. Don't be late again."

"Now, that's something I can't promise, oldie", Blaine told him apologetically. Kurt glared at him incredulously.

"Mr Anderson-"

"-Blaine's fine", he assured, smiling warmly.

"_Blaine. _Mind your mouth in my classroom."

"In your classroom? Sure. I can't be held responsible for what I do with it in the storage closet, though."

"Blaine!" Kurt intervened, growling. Westmore was looking murderous now, his glare directed purely at Blaine.

"What, Babe?" he asked casually.

"Shut the hell up", Kurt whispered through gritted teeth, shoving him toward the back of the class and directing a charming smile at Mr Westmore. Blaine stared. He was sure that smile would win over any person-male, female, trans and whatever else was there. Damn, even he was feeling a bit weak in the knees. He sat down to get rid of the giddiness he felt as he gazed into Kurt's handsome face-gorgeous eyes, smooth, soft hair, slightly pointed nose, flawless complexion, absolutely _killer _jaw-line, and perfect white teeth. Normally, he wouldn't go for the prep school type-because Kurt absolutely did not belong in public school alone, much less one as suck-y as McKinley. But he, for some unknown reason, felt drawn to Kurt (and God, when did he become one of those Boston Legal characters?) and wanted to get to know as much of him as possible.

Right then, he just sat and watched as Kurt charmed the (ugly brown) pants off of their Math teacher.

"Mr Westmore", he began, tilting his head just a bit as their classmates alternated between watching him and watching Blaine, "Blaine's just new. He's just sort of unused to the environment, I assure you. I'll make sure he gets well acquainted with the way things work around here, and he won't make a habit of being tardy. Just let him off the hook this one time and I promise he'll be better behaved next class. You can trust me", he finished, flashing his teeth like in one of those toothpaste advertisements. Blaine watched in fascination as Mr Westmore smiled back at Kurt and just nodded, tossing a mildly warning glance at him. Kurt's sheer charm had apparently put him in a better mood.

"Alright, class", he started, facing the blackboard, making Blaine tune him out and instead pay attention to Kurt who had made his way over to the seat next to Blaine's.

"Babe-ow!" Blaine cut himself off as he received a hard kick to his shin.

"That's what you get for putting me through that much trouble. And you damn well better behave yourself next class, you dickwad", Kurt warned before pulling a notebook out of his satchel and starting to scribble down whatever Westmore was blabbering about.

Blaine leaned over to whisper in Kurt's ear, breathing in the smell of mint and coffee. "Thank you", he said, watching Kurt blush a bit before nodding and gesturing towards his own bag.

Blaine rolled his eyes but complied, pulling out his spiral and taking down the uncomplicated notes that Westmore was giving out. He caught Kurt watching out of the corner of his eye, and when he glanced over to him in curiosity, he found that Kurt looked impressed. A bubble of warmth rose up in his chest, confusing him, but he shrugged it off and concentrated on the lecture. He wanted to see Kurt impressed with him again, strange though it was.

* * *

"Alright, so what classes do you have after lunch?" Kurt wanted to know as he led the way to the lunch line in the crowded cafeteria.

"Study hall, study hall and more study hall", he said, garnering a surprised look from Kurt.

"It's just for today", he explained, "Figgins told me that it's because I'm new, and he wanted me to go easy on the first day. Nice of him, though I'm just going to ditch."

"You can't ditch!" Kurt said, frowning at him, looking every bit the prep school boy he deserved to be. On second thought, though, he realized that if he went to private school, Kurt wouldn't be able to wear those skinny jeans of his, and wouldn't that be a shame.

"Oh, yes I can, beautiful", he countered, watching Kurt as he put a meagre amount of salad onto his plate and eyed his plate of greasy food with a mixture of disgust and jealousy.

"Why? Why can't you just stay and not cause trouble?" Kurt asked in exasperation, moving towards an empty table and signalling to someone behind them, presumably regarding the seating. Blaine glanced over as he sat and saw about eleven people staring at him creepily. He quickly glanced away. Crazy people.

"I cause trouble, gorgeous. It's what I _do"_, he informed easily as he munched on a burger.

"But I'm vouching for you. Westmore's probably told all the rest of the teachers that the new kid's a bit of a bad boy, but Kurt's taken him under his wing, so of course he'll be fine", he said, at the end part taking a lower, gruff tone that surprisingly turned Blaine on. God, this kid was sexy.

"Do you really want me to stay?" he asked, sighing.

"Yes", Kurt said, giving him the same pretty boy smile he'd given Westmore when he was saving Blaine's ass.

"Fine", Blaine muttered, and watched in amusement as Kurt bounced in his seat, grinning widely. Any annoyance he'd felt initially washed away as soon as he saw that absolutely adorable sight.

"So", Blaine said, changing the subject, "I'm curious. Who on earth are those creepy ass people who are staring at us from over there? If it helps, there's a short girl in an owl sweater."

Kurt snorted, and then clapped a hand over his mouth, trembling with silent laughter for a minute before glancing at the table in question.

"Ah, those, my friend, are the New Directions. Before you laugh, no, it's not the Nude Erections, it's the _New _Directions. No, you can't mock them, because yes, I'm a part of them. We're the show choir group. Bottom of the food-chain, and we all take at least two slushies a week. The jocks in the group, not so much, but the rest of us, sure. I get the brunt of it, because I'm the only out gay kid, I dress in outlandish attire, can't stand down and take the abuse, act, sing _and _dance", he told Blaine all in one breath, and then shoved a forkful of lettuce in his mouth.

"Wow. Good to know", Blaine said, amused. "At least one part of that's going to change", he said, grinning when Kurt looked up curiously.

"What?" he asked.

"You're not the only out gay kid anymore", he said, smiling at him and biting his lip to stop from actually _squealing _when Kurt blushed bright red. Adorable.

"Wait, you're-", Kurt trailed off.

"Gay? Honey, I've been ogling you and flirting with you and outright telling you I want to sleep with you from the moment we met. Did you really think I was straight?" he taunted.

"N-no. I mean-never mind", Kurt replied, making Blaine chuckle and lean closer.

"Well, will you sleep with me?" he asked, leering unabashedly.

"No!" Kurt exclaimed, glaring.

"Geez, am I really that unattractive?" he teased, knowing full well he wasn't.

"No. It's not-I've never.." he trailed off, blushing.

Blaine's eyes widened when it clicked.

"You're a virgin?" he asked in disbelief. Kurt looked away, frowning.

"No, sweetheart. Don't be embarrassed. I meant that I'm surprised you haven't- you're gorgeous, honey. I've made that pretty clear from the start, don't you think?" he said, rushing to reassure him his disbelief was being misunderstood.

"I've never met someone who's actually gay before. And you can't actually be serious, calling me-you know."

"Jesus, Kurt", Blaine said, surprised, "you really don't think much of yourself, do you?"

At Kurt's silence, he continued.

"I've never wanted to kiss someone as much as I want to kiss you. And touch you. And, well, I don't want to corrupt a virgin mind.. ow!" he said, laughing, rubbing at his arm where Kurt had smacked him.

"Shut up, idiot", Kurt said, stabbing his salad viciously.

"Only because you asked so nice-OW! Stop that!"


End file.
